


New Title: From Mayor to Papa

by evilRevan



Series: Papa Hancock [1]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Children, Fluff, Gen, Papa Hancock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 04:29:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5483444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilRevan/pseuds/evilRevan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To everyone in Goodneighbor he was Mayor Hancock. Friend, leader, and family to the citizens who had been kicked out from Diamond city. Mayor came off the tongue easily enough. Hammered into his head after so many mouths repeating the word over and over for the past decade or so. Now? He had a new title... one that didn't come off the tongue as easily as Mayor did. 'Papa' he'd have to get used to hearing. Especially with two little kids roaming Sanctuary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Title: From Mayor to Papa

Billows of smoke curled out from between Hancock’s lips, the acidic ashy taste of the cigarette settling his nerves back resting against one of the makeshift cushioned chairs of Sanctuary. He was nervous. Antsy. All with good reason. Three days Anari had been gone. Nick trailing behind her as they went off to help out some settlement for the minutemen. 

Sourly he wished he told her to forget clearing out some hole for them. The other knew it was a good idea- to help give people a place to call home in case they couldn’t get somewhere safer.

Leathery fingers brought the end of the cigarette back to his lips, mouth sucking in the vapors  _holding_  and then, releasing another cloud of smoke into the air. 

Bare feet slapped against the wood, a tiny little girl barreling down the hallway- towards him without a single care in the world. She and the boy they picked up a while ago was the reason he was left behind. The two kids bawled their eyes out when both had first tried to leave them behind with Nick or Preston, snot and tears raining down their faces as they  _pleaded_  for them not to leave them alone. They were scared. It was understandable.

And he caved first- staying behind to give the kids some semblance of safety in a fucked up world that left them on their own well before either of them found the two kids on the brink of death, surrounded by ghouls lying in wait to finish what they started.

The cigarette crumpled against the ashtray as he snuffed it out, freeing his right hand in case the kid needed help with something. Or wanted to play a game. Jean, the little spitfire with blazing wild red hair always clamored to him when she wanted to play. Finding his company the best sort of medicine for loneliness. Hancock couldn’t say no to her, which only increased her visits and the length of time spent trying to find her during Hide-in-seek. Or wrestling his hat off her head. 

Dark black eyes gazed at the little scamp, shooting her an warm cocksure smile in her direction, “Need something, kid?” Unabashed the red head nodded scrambling closer to his spot. A weight rested on his legs, the girl now sitting on his lap with little effort- as if she had done this so many times it was second nature to her. Except- to Hancock this was the first time she ever came this close to him. He held her hand from time to time, put her on his shoulders- he instigated those. She never volunteered.

Now, he had a child in his lap tiny arms curled around his sides hugging him as if Jean was afraid he would disappear, a dream ready to shatter at a moment’s notice. 

Silence loomed in the house, Hancock absolutely dumbfounded by the little tyke’s gesture, her infallible trust thrust in his hands. 

“Hey,” Arms wrapped around the small girl’s frame, concern leaking out from every pore in his body (if he had any left) as he tried his damnest to see if the kid was indeed alright as she seemed. Red hair blocked her brown eyes from sight- face nestled against his chest further muddling things up.

The spitfire wasn’t _ok_. 

With a squeeze he tried to comfort her. “Hey spi-  _Jean,_  everything is ok. You’re alright kid.” She moved her head up and down against his chest, nodding meekly.

Then and only then did she speak, “I-is she coming ba-ck?” Her tiny frame shook ever so slightly, confirming both his and Anari’s suspicions when they first broke down in front of them. They were so damn afraid of losing them, of losing anyone they had grown attached to. Being alone in the wasteland was their own personal hell- like an angry open wound festering with pus and dried blood. It just wouldn’t go away without the right kind of treatment.

Spindly grooved hands rubbed the girl’s back- mimicking Anari’s motions whenever she handled the two distraught kids. Hums, back rubs, soothing words.. the works. He wasn’t familiar with any of that but he tried. Good god did he try his damnest to keep the little thing from trembling.

A minute passed before the tiny tremors ceased- her body still against him, hands no longer clenching at his coat in desperation. 

“Better?”

He received another mute nod. Sighing he rolled his shoulders carefully as to not jostle the kid still nestled in his lap. A pop filled the silence. As did the sweet satisfaction of easing the tension lingering within his taunt shallow shoulders.

“She’s coming back kid. Anari isn’t the type to die out there, you hear me?” It was a fact. One that came with traveling with her for so long, getting to know her, and ultimately being in love with her. The raven haired woman could be on the brink of death but somehow, through sheer fucking luck, managed to pull through where no one else would have. She was a god damned miracle.

The chair creaked, Hancock’s eyes focusing on the kids dark brown eyes staring right back at him, fear and uncertainly washed away like taking a shower after being coated in dried blood and soot.

Her mouth opened once, shut it, then opened it again. She rinsed and repeated- unsure of herself. Hancock let her have the time she needed to sort herself out. Didn’t push. Didn’t pry. That was how he operated. 

When she finally mustered the courage, the question she posed to him stunned him into silence for the second time today. “Ca-n I-…. I call you…pa-pa?” Tiny arms withdrew from around him, her hands pressed close to her chest- small and defenseless, the completely opposite of the look of hope burning within her dark eyes. 

Part of him wanted to say no. Urged him to. But that was the part of him that wanted to run away, the piece of himself he abhorred to give in to any longer.

“Whatever you want to call me is fine, Spitfire.” A grooved ruined hand went up to his tricorn hat, plucking it off his head, and gently placing it atop the small girl’s mess of hair. The ghoul didn’t need to see her face to know she was smiling.

Hell, he was too.


End file.
